Fate of the past
by dwarvishSquircle
Summary: When Jaeys wakes up in the wondrous world of Middle Earth, she think's it's all just a big, idiotic joke. People do not have feet five sizes too big for their bodies, and dragons? Dragons never existed in the first place. We'll see how much of a joke it is when she's faced with the biggest and most dangerous adventure of her life. Book and Movie universes, eventual Fili x OC.
1. Prelude

This wasn't entirely how I pictured my last day in New Zealand to go, but here I was.  
Crouched over in the bushes. Hiding from security. Behind the set of the fucking _Hobbit.  
_  
I cursed at myself for getting into this mess. I was way too impressionable, it was going to get me killed one day. Stupid friends _'leaving'_ their phones on the set. I didn't want to visit the set in the first place, I've never even seen _The Hobbit_! I mean, yeah, the set was lovely (it was pretty cool how it was an actual area and not just built up on a stage), but the tour was just so bloody _boring_. Apparently, though, not boring enough for some people; my friends became so _enthralled _with the tour they managed to lose most of their stuff. Car keys, wallets, you name it – they lost it.

That was one of the reasons I was currently hiding from security. My idiot _friend,_ Rob, had forgotten his phone, which just so happened to have all the contact details of the  
people that were supposed to collect us to take us back to the airport. We were meant to call them with our current camp location, and they would pick us up and we could return home. I had no clue why no one else bothered to save the number (mostly because I travelled with a bunch of hippie idiots) but, of course, _I _had to be the one to go and retrieve the phone. Apparently it was because I was 'quick witted and persuasive'. Total bullshit but hey, they managed to convince me didn't they?

The only reason I was in my current predicament was because our plane left tomorrow morning. Like, as in four hours from now. It would take at least two to get to the airport, and I doubted security would open the set just to let me look for a _phone_. So of course, like any sane person would, I jumped the fence to the set and went about retracing my friend's steps.

I fucking hate myself. _And_ my stupid ass 'friends'.

A torch shone directly on my face and I squeaked, jumping up from my current crouching position and sprinting around the back of some odd house that was built into the hill. I couldn't care less about who was supposed to 'live' here (Bibo or something? Rob was adamant about teaching me but I really didn't give two shits) as I literally _felt_ the two security guards thumping across the ground behind me. They were calling out for me to stop quite angrily, and I tried to keep my face hidden as I whipped around to run on top of the hill-house. It was quite a feat really, what with the bulging backpack attached to my back and thumping up and down with every step I took. The weight of the backpack almost toppled me over the edge of the roof. To be fair, it wasn't that far of a drop…Just the landing could go _awfully _and you could easily snap an ankle or two. I don't think the guards would dare try this jump, especially considering their age. Poor guys had to be in their mid-forties, I felt a little bad for them; chasing a twenty-something year old around a quiet village set must _not_ have been the highlight of their lives.

"Hey, you there! Stop!" One called, making a mad dash towards me. I grimaced as I weighed my options. Stay and get arrested, jump _maybe _six or seven feet and get the fuck out of dodge. I chose the second option, trying to figure out how to fall properly before I actually hit the ground.

My previous statement of them not making the jump was correct. I watched them stand stock still halfway up the hill as I jumped down, prepared for my feet to come into contact with the grassy-cobble turf.

Unfortunately, it was my head that hit the ground first.

* * *

**Hey guys!  
Just a quick little intro to the story, before we dive into the main thing;;;**


	2. Meet n' Greet

I awoke with a start. My head throbbed, the left side of my body was near-numb and I was currently being blinded by the brightest light I had ever seen in my life. I let out a strangled moan, using the reasonably-functional right side of my body to prop myself up. I felt like I'd gotten into a boxing match with a kangaroo and lost, _horribly. _Or, wait, was that Australia that had the kangaroos? Where even was I, now?

I squinted towards the sun as my eyes adjusted. The first thing that was blatantly obvious, was that I was outside. Wet grass clung to my bare arms as a soft breeze ghosted over my face; blowing my hair off of my eyes and splaying it over my shoulders and back instead. I could hear the idle chitter-chatter of a village not too far off, so I pushed myself up into a sitting position to look for it.

Apparently I was sat on top of a very large hill, as when I stood up I had a perfect view of the rolling valleys below. The landscape reminded me of a slightly nicer version of Northumberland, where the grass was actually alive and the houses didn't look an utter shambles. There were odd circles embedded into the side of almost every hill, and I vaguely remembered that _yes, some people lived inside the hills_. For some reason, that didn't seem as odd to me as before.

These odd hill-houses looked pretty nice, to be quite honest. Quaint, even. Neatly-kept gardens, with the occasional clothes line hanging from house-to-fence gave me a sense of familiarity. I had grown up on trips around the Yorkshire Dales and Northumberland Moors, and waking up here, well…

It felt like waking up at home, in a way. A weird, fucked up, I'm-sure-I've-been-here-before-but-I-know-I-haven't sort of way.

I frowned, standing up and stretching. My back cracked with a satisfying _pop pop pop! _and I sighed in relief, sagging my shoulders back down. My backpack had been haphazardly discarded halfway down the hill from my current position, but looked no worse for ware, which I was happy for. Everything I currently owned was in that backpack. Everything else, like my clothes and technologies were back….at camp….

_Christ, what time is it? I'll have missed the flight! If they leave me in this fucking country I swear to god I'll shred them from the inside out._

It was at that point I regretted not putting anything of any _use_ in the backpack. It's contents included, but were not limited to : Cherry bombs, mini bar vodka bottles (to be fair, I hadn't drunk them yet), duct tape, a Swiss army knife, two large fire-crackers, some infra-red binoculars, double pack of plasters, a small plastic tub of coffee and an assortment of other random shit that was worthless to me, and anyone else who would come across this pack. With a sigh I stumbled down towards it, cursing myself for wearing shoes with so little grip. I slipped, and wit ha grunt I landed directly on my rear next to the backpack.  
"Ow, frick..." Murmuring obscenities to myself, I heaved the pack over my shoulder, glumly shoving my arms in the straps as I stared to walk further down the hill. It would make the most sense to go to the nearest house (hole, more like) and ask for a phone. So that's what I did.

The grass was still wet from morning dew, causing me to half shuffle, half slide down the hill as I tried to keep my balance. Slipping twice in the space of two minutes would not be a high point for me, I had to admit. Ow, my jeans must be all muddy at the back now...  
Groaning, I pulled my backpack off of my shoulder and pulled out my cardigan. Hopefully it was long enough to cover the stains on my rear. God knows I looked weird enough already, with neon running shoes and jeans that now seemed two sizes too big. Come to think of it, this shirt seems more like a dress now...And the sleeves of this cardigan come way past the ends of my fingers...

I looked down at my body quizzically. It looked relatively the same, although I did look slightly…disproportionate. Usually, I wasn't as close to the ground. My legs _definitely_ looked stubby and when I brought my hands up to my face I noticed that they, too, were considerably smaller than I remembered.

_Was I drugged?_ I wondered idly, dismissing thoughts of shrinking as I slid ever further towards the bottom of the hill. Was this just a bad acid trip? God knows the people I had travelled with for the past year were a bunch of high-as-a-kite stoner-hippies, constantly tripping balls and raving at two AM about the 'bad dwarves that were eating their toes' but I'd prided myself in not partaking in any of their uh, _recreational_ activities. Well, apart from getting shit-faced in various pubs around the world and gambling most of my life savings away, but that was irrelevant.

Evidentially, I had been stood on the direct centre-top of someone's hole-house, as at the base of the hill there was a worn-down cobble path leading up to what I assumed was the front door. Hiking my backpack higher, I tentatively stepped onto the cobbles and began slowly making my way towards the wooden gate. The front of the, er, _house_ looked relatively pleasant, with bright flowers adorning every ledge and awning and thick grass growing around the weathered stone stairs. A cushioned bench sat slightly to the side of the gate, and it looked to give a comfy view of the valley and hills below. It looked positively quaint, welcoming even, and I quickly dispelled any fears I would have about its inhabitants as soon as I opened the gate.

I carefully padded up the stone steps, wary of stepping somewhere I shouldn't. The great round door rose in front of me like a wooden giant, and again I idly wondered if I had shrunk, or if everything else had grown. With a short sigh, I rose my hand to the door; knocking hard three times before taking a step back. There was a pleasant reply of "One moment!" from inside.

I nodded to myself, half expecting them to ignore me. At least they were polite.

The door opened moments later, swinging inward to reveal one of the oddest looking people I had ever met. I had previously been staring at the ground, so the first thing I noticed when he opened the door was that he was barefoot. In itself, that shouldn't have been much of a problem.

Except his feet were massive. And hairy. And they didn't look human _at all._

"Good morning! Can I help you?" He asked politely, but I could hear the undertones of unsettlement in his voice. It was a small village he lived in; it was probably a rare occurrence to have some random woman turn up on your door step, asking a phone. To be quite honest, if it were me I wouldn't have answered the door at all. Props to him for actually being a decent person.

I dragged my eyes from his feet to meet his gaze. He was smaller than me, which I was happy about, because I obviously hadn't shrunk _that_ much if I could still look down on people. He was eyeing me up apprehensively, his eyes flicking from my face to my shoes to my backpack in such rapid succession it was a wonder that they didn't somehow roll out of their sockets. Then again, that's to be expected; I was dresses _so_ differently from him it was unbelievable. He had on a light cream waistcoat on top of a white shirt, with a tan jacket over the top. Brown, corduroy trousers stopped just short of his ankles, and I idly wondered if it had taken a lot of time to get them on considering his foot size. It appeared to me as if he was just getting ready to go out.

"Ah, yes um…Sorry to bother you, but do you have a phone I could borrow?" I asked, wringing my hands together and looking down in shame. This was so embarrassing, who forgets their phone when they're in another country? This guy must think I'm an idiot.  
"I'm sorry, what? A phone? I'm not certain anyone around here has one, whatever it is." Apparently I'd woken up under some sort of rock. Who didn't have phones any more? This wasn't the damn middle ages, I mean even in rural communities there must be at least one phone. I frowned.  
"Are you sure?" He nodded his head, looking at me quite worriedly. Well, if he doesn't have a phone, someone will have to. There's probably a hotel or a bed and breakfast around here, they would be more likely to have one than this guy. Or, at least, I hoped they would.

The man was eyeing me more suspiciously by the second, and I could see his grip on the door tightening. It looked like he was going to slam the door on me any second. My thoughts scrambled, trying to make up a believable cover story. I'm not exactly going to tell a random stranger that I was stranded in the country, because of stupid stoner friends leaving me now was I?  
"Ah, okay. Well, uh, I've been travelling for almost a year now, and having ended up here I think I'm lost?" I replied, voice raising in question. He nodded with furrowed eyebrows and leaned against the side of his door. _Good_, I thought, _he was believing it._  
"And you see, yours was the first house I saw, so. A lovely house too, if the beauty of your garden is anything to go by. But yeah, I'm very lost and I was just wondering if you could direct me to the nearest…" I paused, trying to find the right word. If he didn't know what a phone was, who's to say he would know what a hotel was? I didn't want to risk it.  
"Inn? Hostel? Or ah, if there are any pubs with spare rooms for a… nights rest. It's okay if you um, if you don't know though! I'm sure someone around here will." My nervous stammer was becoming prominent again, but still I looked down at him with hopeful eyes.

"Oh, of course! Certainly, I would be happy to help. I believe the nearest inn is the Ivy Bush. If you follow that road down," He pointed towards the thicker road that splintered off from the path outside of his house.  
"It would lead you straight to it. Then, there's the Green Dragon; that's in Brywater, it's signposted outside of the Ivy Bush. I would suggest that inn over the Ivy Bush, thought, the food there is splendid. Ah, are you heading East, or West?" He asked, pulling a pipe out from the inside of his coat and stuffing it with what I assumed was tobacco.

"Ah, East?" The uncertainty in my tone was almost palpable, but if he noticed he didn't say anything about it. The man nodded thoughtfully before replying.  
"Then you'll be following the Great East road. Everything is signposted, it's most easy to find, I assure you. There's the Floating Log in Frogmorton, and The Golden Perch in Stock. They have a reputation for excellent beer, the Golden perch that is. I suppose you'll be travelling to Bree, but that's a three-days walk from here and I would hope that you would rather sleep at an inn than on a road." Lighting his pipe, he began to take long drags from it, as I stood there in disbelief. Maybe smoking in someone's face wasn't considered rude here?

My face screwed up as I fanned the smoke out of my face, coughing a little for good measure. He simply took another drag of his pipe.

_Asshole._

"Ehm, I don't plan to. I'll head down that way then, I guess. Thank you, err…?" His eyebrows shot up so quickly I feared they would never come down. Brushing the front of his vest off and straightening his posture, he offered his hand for me to shake.  
"Oh, dear me! I have forgotten my manners, my name is Bilbo Baggins. And you're quite welcome!" _That name seems oddly familiar…_

I took his hand and shook it meekly, thanking whatever god there was that his hands, at least, were relatively normal. "Nice to meet you, Mister Baggins. I'm Jaeys Adee-Swails, thanks again for your help." Bilbo gave me two short nods before grasping the edge of the door and starting to close it. In turn, I flashed him a sincere smile before pivoting around and hopping down the grassy steps. I had just made it out of the gate with Bilbo still watching before he spoke again.  
"Safe journeys!" He called, and with a dull thud the door closed on the first person I had met in this strange place.

_Right, _I thought._  
Time to find those inns._

* * *

It was midday before I reached the second inn Bilbo mentioned, the Green Dragon. Truly, it wasn't that long of a walk; I would have gotten there much sooner if I hadn't stopped to admire the scenery, pet every small animal I saw, and stop to pull my jeans up every two seconds; but I had and I was still no closer to finding a phone as before. With a short sigh, I pushed open the door and stepped inside.

Given that it was only about one in the afternoon, I didn't expect there to be many people. People don't tend to drink in vast amounts until maybe six, or at least until their work day ended (if they were sensible and not raging alcoholics). I was right on that count; there were about five or six people spread across the room, all (I assumed) were eating lunch, and all had the same weird, hairy feet as Bilbo. It was considerably smaller than I expected, slightly reminiscent of some of the inns I had visited while playing _Skyrim._ The actual bar part itself was pushed rather to the back of the building, in front of some very large wooden kegs and stairs that led upstairs. The barkeep eyed me suspiciously, as did the rest of the patrons as I strode towards the counter. Another thing that I had noticed while travelling was that most of the uh, people, I passed were smaller than me. This would usually not be as weird, considering I was nearing six foot when I had entered New Zealand, but I had literally not seen one person taller than me this entire time. It was getting unnerving really fast.

"What can I do for ya?" The barkeep asked, resting with his forearms crossed on the counter. He was a middle aged, portly man, wearing much of the same clothes as Bilbo had been wearing when I met him a few hours ago. His near bald head accented his large, slightly pointed ears, and I was now starting to worry that I had hit my head _extremely_ hard to be seeing everyone with weird ears and feet that were five sizes too big for their body.

"Er, yeah. Do you have a phone, I could borrow?" I asked tentatively, offering a shy smile. He responded by narrowing his eyes, tilting his head downwards in question.  
"No. Anything else?" Well, this guy was pretty impolite. It was only a question, he looked as if he was ready to pounce. Jeez.  
"Okay, um, what about a room for the night?" That seemed to placate him slightly as he unfolded his arms and placed them hands down on the counter.  
"Of course," He replied, gesturing to the stairs behind him. "One night would be five silver, for a warm bed and a good meal."  
"Ah, good! Okay, let me um…" I patted myself down. No dosh.

With a frown, I pulled my bag off of my shoulder and set it on the stool in front of me. The barkeep regarded me with curiosity, busying himself by wiping down the counter and pulling a glass (seemingly from nowhere) to clean. I was all but scowling at the inside of my bag now, franticly pushing objects out of the way in search of my coin purse. Did he say silver? I had a few New Zealand dollars, and a couple of pesos, but I highly doubted that it would be enough.  
"Eerr…" Well, I had literally no money. How was I supposed to survive out here? No money, no actual _skills_ that would help me get a job (I doubted they had any technology here, so my degree in Physics would be near totally useless), and to top it off everyone around here looked at me like I was some crazy hobo lady. The man seemed to be getting impatient now, crossing his arms and examining me with raised eyebrows, as if to say _Pay up._ I audibly gulped, quickly buttoning my pack back up and slinging it over my shoulder.

"That's uh, that's good to know." I nodded thoughtfully, wiping my hands on my shirt and refusing to meet his eyes. I heard a rough grunt, and I snapped my head up to ask him just exactly what his problem was.  
"You want the room, or not?" He asked, rather gruffly for someone of his stature. If I was in any other situation, I would have probably asked if he was 'having a go', as my friends would so eloquently put it. But I wasn't, and I had no one to back me up, so it probably want the best idea to go picking fights with random barkeeps.  
"No, no, I was just wondering, is all. Um, sorry for uh, for bothering you?" Yeah, no way was I going to ask for a room for free. I knew my boundaries; I wasn't going to push it. He simply nodded at me and turned away.

With a sigh, I pushed my other arm through my backpack strap and made for the door again. It would be unlikely that I'd reach the other inns Bilbo spoke of before nightfall, considering he regarded this place as _near _and it took me half a day to get to it. Instead, I decided to retrace my steps and set out for the Ivy Bush – the inn I had passed on my route here. It didn't look all that big, when I had past it, and with only one floor it was unlikely that they had any rooms. And if the Green Dragon didn't have a phone, I doubted the Ivy Bush would either. _However_, I had seen a small stable outside the back of the Ivy Bush – maybe I could sneak in and crash there for the night. Hey, I wouldn't be the first time I had slept somewhere I shouldn't.

* * *

The sun was slowly sinking towards the horizon by the time I reached the Ivy Bush. It looked just as bad as it had when I passed it a few hours ago – quaint, but still relatively shitty. It was an old, grey building, with ivy winding between the bricks. I highly doubted it was structurally safe, if the quiet creaking of the doorframe was anything to go by. As I mentally prepared myself to go in, I heard my name being called in the distance. My body whipped around to search for the source of the voice.

There was the guy from earlier, Bilbo, strolling down the road towards me. He had his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets, all but _skipping_ down the road towards me. I wondered what had made him seem so chipper.  
"Afternoon, Mister Baggins!" I called back, striding over to meet him halfway. He seemed like a decent bloke, maybe….Maybe I could convince him to let me stay with him for a day or two? He didn't seem like the creepy, axe-murderer type…. And even if he was, I was sure that I was stronger than him. I could fend him off with no trouble.

"Have yourself a room yet?" He grinned, swaying back and forth on the balls of his feet. I let out a short 'Hah', shaking my head and rubbing the back of my neck in an awkward manner.  
"Nah, uh, haven't been able to get one." The smile dropped off his face, eyebrows knitting together in worry.  
"Why? Is it because you're a dwarf? I don't see why that should make a difference, dwarves don't pass through here much but still it's rather rude to refuse you just because of that." He looked rather put out by my admission, removing his hands from his pockets and stroking his chin thoughtfully.  
"I think it mainly has to do with the fact I have no money," I joked, cracking an awkward smile as I shuffled from foot to foot. _Dwarf_, I mentally scoffed. _As if he thinks I'm a dwarf. I'm more likely to be a bloody lizard than a dwarf._  
"And I don't exactly think anyone's gonna offer me somewhere to stay for free, so yeah." I shrugged.

"Why don't you have any money? You told me you'd been traveling, surely you wouldn't set out without any money." Bless his soul. He looked utterly perplexed, as if it was near _impossible_ for someone to be so _stupid _as to leave on a journey without any money.  
"Well, I didn't," I began.  
"I wasn't entirely truthful before. I have been travelling, I didn't lie about that, but…the thing is, I wasn't traveling _here._ As a matter of fact, I have no idea where _here, _is. All I can remember is… I think I might have jumped off of something, and uh, maybe hit my head? And then, _poof_, I wake up on top of your house." Well, if he looked confused before, he looked completely lost right now. I don't think my awkward laughs were doing anything to help, either.

"You…don't know where you are?" He asked, voice raised and head tilting to the side with the question.  
"Not the foggiest, I'm afraid."  
"And…you have nowhere to stay?"  
"Well, I was planning on sleeping in that barn over there," I replied, jerking my thumb over to the derelict building. "Unless you have a better idea?" Maybe I could prompt him into offering me a bed for the night. It seemed like I could easily guilt trip him, given I used the right words.

"I suppose…" He murmured, more to himself than to me. Fighting the grin that was about to conquer my face, I put on my best helpless expression and clasped my hands over my chest.  
"Yes? Is there somewhere I could stay, even just for the night? I'd be able to help out, like with the cleaning and stuff." I prompted. He began stroking his chin in thought, and when he looked back at me I knew I had him just where I wanted him.  
"Well…I may be able to offer you a room, for the night. If, of course, you wouldn't mind." I quickly tried to mask my smugness with sincerity as I let out a gasp, smiling in glee.  
"You mean it? Are you sure?" I asked, biting my lip and hopping with excitement. He seemed to begin to reconsider for a second.

_Shit. Shit, think fast, think fast._

"Oh, thank you Bilbo!" I exclaimed, and hugged him about the shoulders. That seemed to bewilder him somewhat, so I quickly pulled back and launched into my mile-a-minute speech.  
"Thank you so, _so_ much! Everyone here has been really odd towards me, I was getting worried that there must be something wrong with me. It's like I come from another planet or something! I mean yeah, my accent isn't really 'local' or whatever, but y'know that shouldn't really put people off me, should it? But you! You've been so kind to me, you're the nicest person I've met in ages! Seriously, you don't know how grateful I am. I'll help out however I can, I swear. You won't regret this!" I grinned, hoping that he'd be too polite to refuse. His flustered expression gave me all the answer I needed.

"W-well, I-" He began, but I quickly cut him off.  
"Why are you down here, by the way? Are you going shopping or something? Maybe I could help! I mean, obviously not in the money department but if you're buying a lot of stuff I could carry it!" Beaming, I clapped my hands together and hopped from foot to foot in an effort to seem overly-exuberant.  
"N-no, I…I was just on my way back, as a matter of fact." I felt kind of bad pressuring this poor man into letting me crash at his place for a night. He looked utterly _terrified_ of me! Not that I could blame him, really; I assumed I was sporting the 'raving hobo-woman' look that had intimidated _oh so _many people here before him.

"Oh, great! Shall we go, then? I bet you haven't had dinner yet, have you?"  
"I haven't even had afternoon tea…" He muttered glumly, looking towards the floor downcast. Well, at least we had the same opinions on missing out on food. I swear I knew him from somewhere, though… That fact was beginning to grate on my nerves more than anything else. I quickly shook the thoughts from my mind, trying to focus on the tasks at hand.  
"Well then, let's get going! You're going to starve at this rate." Grinning slyly, I hooked my arm through his and spun him around in the other direction. I'd probably be able to figure out where the hell I was, after a good meal and a full night's sleep.

_I hoped._

* * *

**First proper chapter! woot/ first fanfic in a while, if im honest  
This is slightly pre-unexpected journey, bear with it because your fave dwarves _will_ show up soon I promise! c:  
thanks for reading &amp; please review;;;; any criticisms are appriciated!**


	3. Revelations

Bilbo's house was as nice as I had imagined. The large door had opened up into an equally large foyer, with an archway to my immediate left leading down a long hall. A few candles were already lit on the walls, emitting barely enough light for me to make out my surroundings. Everything seemed to be brown and beige, quite fitting since the entire home was under about ten feet of dirt. _The craftsmanship that went into this place must have been immense,_I thought, staring up at the wooden beams supporting the ceiling. Each archway and awning had an individual pattern carved into the wood and all the furniture was quite obviously hand crafted. I wished I could trade my city apartment for this place, if only for a week or two. Living partly-underground must be a heck of a lot more peaceful than living on the second floor of an apartment building located in the middle of the city.

"Well then," Bilbo started, and I turned to see him closing the door behind him and shedding his jacket, brushing off his vest as he did so.  
"Make yourself at home!" He announced, hanging his coat up on the rack to the right of the door and standing in front of me with his hands folded behind his back.  
"Er…right, yeah." I quickly slipped my muddy shoes off and dropped my backpack by the coat rack. It had taken us about an hour to get back to Bilbo's house; my guess would be that it was around five or six now, a perfect time for dinner. Bilbo seemed to mirror my thought process as, by the time I had hung my cardigan by the door, he was skipping down the hallway towards the kitchen. I shuffled along behind him, trying not to touch and break anything. Not that there was very much around to break, mind you.

"Right…" He muttered, rolling his shirt sleeves up and rubbing his hands together. "Time for dinner." He then promptly disappeared through a doorway to my right, presumably to his food stores (I couldn't understand why there wasn't a fridge in here; probably because, as previously mentioned, these people were apparently living in the god damn _middle ages)_, to get the ingredients we needed to prepare dinner.

"This is a really nice house, Mister Baggins!" I called to him, switching back to formalities. Still too shy to follow _too_ closely behind him, I lingered around the archway into the kitchen, gripping onto the wood as he flitted in and out of this room and the one across the hall. I took this brief opportunity to tie up my hair; vaguely noticing that there seemed to be a lot more of it than there was before. Frowning as I struggled to tie it correctly, I called out to him again.  
"Did you deck it out yourself?"  
"Did I what? No, no, it's been in the family for years." Bilbo replied, coming back into the kitchen with an unreasonable amount of foodstuffs grasped in his arms. It looked like too much for the poor man, so I stepped forward to unburden him.

"Ah, thank you, I –ohh," He stuttered, and I guessed he had just noticed my tattoos. I felt my mouth twitch upwards into a small smirk as I took the vegetables from his hold, leaving him with what I assumed to be bacon (it was wrapped in paper) and a few spice pots. People usually reacted like that, they weren't exactly the most _subtle _of tattoos; one covered my entire upper left arm, the other was just a small band around my upper right. I think he'd probably faint if I tried to show him the one on my sternum…

"W-what did you get those for?" Bilbo asked. I let out a breath of laughter, setting the ingredients down on the counter in the middle of the room and going towards the sink to wash my hands.  
"Well, I got this one –" I began, wiggling my left shoulder "just because I wanted to. Its uh, it's Yggdrasil; it's basically this giant tree that links all nine worlds together in Norse mythology." Yep, okay, I'd lost him. He looked utterly perplexed, staring into the unwrapped bacon as if it would give him any answers. I'd told him a half-lie, truthfully; I'd actually gotten the tattoo because a previous boyfriend had been _especially_ invested in mythology, and consequentially, he'd dragged me down with him.  
"I got this one, rather than like something from Ancient Egypt or Greece or something because Norse has some of the stupidest stories and myths." His eyebrows knotted together in confusion, head tilting to the side.  
"Such as?"  
"Uh, well, my favourite would be the one about Thor, y'know, the god of thunder? Basically, he has this really important hammer, and one day he loses it. Turns out a giant stole it, and he's only going to give it back if he gets to marry the most beautiful goddess, Freya. And like, no one really wants Freya to marry him? So another god, Loki, suggests that Thor dresses up as her to go to the wedding feast and steal back his hammer. Long story short the giant thinks that Thor, a great hairy man, is Freya and he ends up giving the hammer back as a 'wedding gift', after which Thor beats all the giants at the feast to death with it." He looked quite put out by that, and I let out a nervous laugh as I pushed the vegetables into different sections on the countertop. I admit, it was one of the more violent stories, and in retrospect I _probably_shouldn't have used it to explain why I liked something. It wasn't just the _stories_ I liked, I also enjoyed the concept of the _creatures_ in the tales; dwarves, elves, dragur and wyverns were all pretty cool things to read about. However, as soon as the breakup happened my interest faded. Sure I still liked it, but I wasn't going to spend extended amounts of time researching all the different creatures and century-old fables. At least the tattoo made me look pretty badass.

"This one here," I pointed to the one on my right – "Is a Celtic knot, I got it when I uh, completed my 'Bowman' grade for archery back home." _That_, at least, he seemed to understand. I prided myself on being a woman of many useless talents, one of which was archery. It was something my dad had signed me up for at the ripe old age of seven, to 'keep me out of trouble'. I wasn't entirely sure _what_ sort of trouble a seven year old could get into, exactly, but he signed me up anyway and I had been attending up until I turned 19. I had to quit when I moved further down south for University, and I had to admit my skills had deteriorated rapidly. I doubted I would be able to shoot a target ten feet in front of me now; my aim was atrocious, and I had forgotten most of the pointers my coach had told me when I was still actively shooting. I might have to start practicing again now that I'm in a smaller community. Shoot and selling rabbits was common in little farming villages, right? I'd probably have to ask Bilbo...

"What do you want me to do with these?" I jerked my thumb in the direction of the vegetables I had previously set down on the counter, glancing around the room in an attempt to locate the knife rack. This room, too, was decorated in beige and brown; the fire Bilbo had kindled in the oven making it have a warm, orange glow. He let out a small sound of 'ah' before turning around from the fire and opening a draw on his left, passing me a rather large knife. I took it from him gingerly, careful not to drop it or cut myself. I was utterly useless when it came to cooking, nine times out of ten I'd manage to injure myself in some weird way or completely fuck up whatever I was trying to cook. I could make spaghetti, beans on toast, and sandwiches. That was it. If I tried to do anything else (like help make a stir-fry, for example) I would probably end up knocking the pan off of the stove and try to _catch_ it, resulting in the majority of my hand being burned. Yeah, I wasn't the smartest of people. At least I saved the food!

"Can you, ah, just peel and cut them up?" He asked, going back to busying himself with the frying pan and bacon.

"Yep! I can't do much, but that, man. I'm a master chopper." I grinned. He let out an awkward laugh, pulling pans down from their mounts on the chimney and cutting the fat off of the meat. The conversation died then, I realised, as for the next few minutes the only sounds were the fire crackling, the slicing of meat, the chopping of vegetables and my occasional swears as I nicked my fingers. There was a sharp hiss as Bilbo eventually put some _huge_ strips bacon in the pan, pushing it on top of the grill in the oven and turning back to face me.

"So, you're an archer?" He inquired, in an obvious attempt at small talk. It broke the awkward silence, at least, so I wasn't too fussed at what the subject was.  
"Yeah, I used to be. Got really good at it too, but I had to quit because I moved away from where I had lessons. I haven't fired an arrow in years, to be honest."

"I would assume that it must have been hard? Archery is more of an...elvish pursuit, I can't imagine there were many other dwarvish archers." What is this guys deal with dwarves? Seriously, dude, chill your beans! _Y__ou're_ more of a dwarf than I am!

I narrowed my eyes at him, slowing down my chopping of vegetables.

"...I suppose." I finally answered in an attempt to placate him. Bilbo didn't look very satisfied with my answer, but had the good sense not to question me further. He turned back to the fire, prodding the bacon with a long fork. I could hear the crackles as he pushed it into the hot metal of the pan, trying to cook it faster.  
"How do you like your bacon?" He asked, pressing the bacon down harder. He sounded pretty downtrodden - like I had offended him in some way. I almost felt kinda bad. Then I remembered he kept calling me a _dwarf_, of all things, and any regrets I had about being mildly impolite towards him were quickly dispelled.

"Um," I hummed, finishing chopping the vegetables and pushing the peels off of the knife.  
"However you like yours? And I've, uh, finished with the veg." I made towards the sink, first washing the knife and then my own hands. Bilbo rushed about behind me, probably putting all of the veg together to cook so they would be ready the same time as the bacon. I turned back to wipe down the counter only to find he was doing it for me.

"Do you um, want me to do anything else?" I inquired, giving a sideways glance at the bacon. Bilbo shook his head (quite vigorously, I might add) and put his hands up in a defensive pose.

"No, no no no you're my guest. I couldn't possibly ask any more of you."  
"I feel bad not doing anything if you are, though. Where exactly are we eating, in here? I could uh, set the table if you want? I mean… if we've finished like, chopping everything up and stuff."  
"I…yes, that would be lovely. We are eating in here, I do have a dining room but it would seem empty with just the two of us. The mats are in that drawer behind you-" He pointed to a cupboard on the bottom right of the sink, "And the cutlery is just over here, I can get it."

For the next few minutes, I busied myself with setting the table and getting drinks for us both, while Bilbo checked on the food. I had to pay a visit to the wine cellar (again, who has _wine cellars_ anymore? This guy must be rich as hell), and when I returned I found that dinner was being served.  
"This smells amazing!" I exclaimed, the wine sloshing around in the bottle as I threw my hands up in excitement. Now that I could actually _smell_ the finished food, I noticed how hungry I actually was. The last meal I had would have been…yesterday, I think, at lunchtime. Even then, it hadn't been much; an apple and a cheese sandwich. Not exactly the most filling of meals.

I all but slammed the wine down on the counter in my hurry to sit down and eat. Bilbo jumped at the sudden noise, dropping the two cups he had clasped in each hand and spinning around to face me. By this point, I already had a strip of bacon in my mouth, its grease dribbling down my chin.  
"Shorry," I mumbled, pushing the rest of the bacon in my mouth and chewing quickly. Thankfully, neither of the cups appeared broken as he set them down on the table and uncorked the wine.  
"I just… haven't eaten, since like, lunchtime yesterday? I didn't realise how hungry I was." I admitted, giving him an awkward smile before continuing to devour my meal. He just gawked at me like I was insane.

"Since _lunchtime yesterday?_ Why didn't you tell me sooner! Oh, you poor thing, I'm terribly sorry! If I'd have known, I'd have hurried us home." He fretted, frowning at himself as he poured a little wine out for each of us. Did he seriously feel bad for not giving me any food? It's not like I asked for some and he refused, I was just stupid and hadn't thought to ask anyone sooner.  
"It's okay, it's not really that big of a deal. I usually only have two meals a day, anyways."  
"_Two meals?!" _He exclaimed, putting one hand to his forehead as if he was going to faint.

"Uhh…yeah, two meals. I mean, I've been traveling for this past year so I'm usually either packing up camp so I miss dinner, or ferrying my friends somewhere in the early hours, making me miss breakfast. Why?" I explained, eying up Bilbo's food. Maybe I could con him into giving me some bacon….

"Well, I usually have six. There's breakfast, second breakfast, elevenses, lunch, afternoon tea, dinner, and sometimes supper. Although, I like to wake late, so I usually miss both breakfasts."  
"I mean, when I wasn't traveling I'd probably have most of them. Not really afternoon tea or elevenses, unless a guest was coming over, but yeah. I'd have the others."

We continued with small talk like this throughout the rest of the evening. When we had both finished, Bilbo guided me back to the parlour where we discussed our interests over scones and hot milk. We shared a love of old fables, ultimately spending the rest of the night recounting tales we had been told in our adolescence. With every word, we became more at ease with the others presence; each quiet laugh breaking the awkwardness that had hung over us since I had chanced upon him on the road. He was quite easy to get along with, actually, more so than I originally thought he would be. Not as animated as I was, I must say, but pleasant all the same.

* * *

It was nearing eleven when Bilbo decided to show me to my room. I had to make a quick dash back to the front door to grab my backpack, blowing out the candles as I did so. I met up with Bilbo again in the kitchen, just as he was putting out the fire that had been burning on the stove.

"The guest bedroom is on the west side," He explained, lighting a candle in the dying embers and pushing it inside a small lantern-type holder.  
"It gets rather dark here at night, so you'll need this to see your way around." Offering me a gentle smile, he led me out of the kitchen and down the hall, towards the darker end of his home. He turned right at the end, pushing open a thick wood door, and in the light of the candle I could make out a large bedroom set. It hardly looked touched.

"Here you are!" Bilbo grinned, handing me the lantern. I flashed him a quick smile in return, stepping into the room and gingerly placing my pack on the bed. I saw a light flicker in the corner, startling me for a second, before I noticed it was actually a mirror.  
_Silly fool, you're scared of your own reflection._  
"There should be some nightclothes in the dresser over there, I'm not entirely sure how well they will fit but…They will be more comfortable than sleeping in those, I suppose." He told me, and I nodded; putting the lantern down on the bedside table and smoothing out the bedsheets.  
"Thank you Bilbo. Really, you didn't have to do any of this, especially for some randomer that you don't know."

"Nonsense!" He grinned, shaking his head.  
"What kind of a Hobbit would I be if I didn't provide help when it was needed? Besides, you've been a welcome company tonight. I must hear more of your tales in the morning, especially that one about the King with the round table."

Wait.  
Did he say…  
_Hobbit?_

"A-a-h hobbit?" I breathed, looking at Bilbo with imploring eyes. My entire world was crashing down around me, I was so _stupid_ for not seeing it before! The hairy feet, the massive ears, hell even the _houses under the ground_ should have tipped me off!  
"Sleep well." He chirped, apparently ignoring my apocalyptic expression and softly shutting the door behind him; leaving me standing by the bed, staring after him like he had just killed my entire family.

I immediately went into panic mode, rushing around the room to find something, _anything_, to prove that this was all a horrid practical joke. I began to pull items out of my backpack, searching around for modern technology. I had left my phone back at camp, but…Aha! My hands clamped down on the cool metal of my small GPS, yanking it out of my backpack as if it were my only lifeline. I saw my own dim reflection in the screen; I truly looked half crazed, with my dark hair frizzing out around my head and covering the majority of my face. I couldn't bring myself to care, I had other priorities right now.

I pressed down harshly on the power button, willing it to load faster. This would prove it. It would show I was somewhere in New Zealand, my friends probably set this up as a prank-

The screen blinked, flashing to life. _Searching_ appeared on the screen as I waited with bated breath, eyes glued to the device I gripped in my hands. It _had _to show up as New Zealand. There was _no way _I had somehow been magically transported to another time, to another world. I refused to believe it. I believed in the theory of an infinite universe – I was a physicist, after all- but this was taking it too far. Why me, of all people? Why this universe?

_After_ what felt like an age, the results appeared before me. I frowned at the words on screen.

I shook it. This GPS had never, _ever_ failed, not even when we had been camping in the middle of nowhere. I hit the side of it, making the screen jolt for a second before displaying those horrid words again.

_No location found._

This was just unbelievable. Running a hand through my thick hair, I could feel my breathing becoming ragged. I shook the GPS harder, again with no desirable response. My knuckles were turning white from how fiercely I was gripping it, tears threatening to leak from my eyes as the realisation dawned upon me.

"Just a dream…" I muttered, lessening my grip on the device until it slowly slid from my hands. I felt weak, terribly terribly weak.  
"S'not real… you're dreaming…" I tried to convince myself, bile rising at the back of my throat. My stomach was churning, and I could feel myself begin to hyperventilate. The room was spinning around me, dark browns and ambers swirling and mixing together until it all turned a cold shade of black. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't _think._ There was only darkness surrounding me, seeping into my bones to pull me into its harsh embrace.

Within the next few moments, I succumbed; drowning in the blackness that had enveloped me.

* * *

My second awakening in this odd place was much like the first. Bright morning light seeped through my eyelids, waking me from my deep slumber and causing me to let out a muffled groan of discontent.

I shot up in the bed. _This was not my campsite._

Events of the previous day came rushing back to me. Bilbo being a Hobbit, my GPS not working, the constant feel of being _out of place_…It all made sense. I didn't want to believe it, but the facts added up to a convincing argument. For some reason, I was in Middle Earth. I didn't know how, and I didn't know why; all I knew was that everything in my life had gone. My family, my friends...None of them appeared to exist here. I stared at the window on the far side of the room as I let the tears fall from my eyes, sobs gradually beginning to escape my lips. The only thing I had left was the contents of my backpack, and even that wasn't much.

My cries died down after a long while, and even after that I simply sat, staring into space. What would I do now? Everything I knew, each skill I had….Most of it was rendered useless because of the lack of technology in this universe. I still had my archery, but…  
That reminded me of the comments Bilbo had been making all throughout last night. "Dwarf" he had called me, time and time again. I wondered, now that I had a proper mirror and light source, if my appearance had also changed…

I let out a shuddering sigh, pushing myself off of the bed and walking towards the mirror so I could assess myself in the light. When I saw the image reflected back at me, I almost started to cry again.

My reflection had the same face as me; same pale skin, thick eyebrows, steely-blue eyes, slightly squared jawline, with a bottom lip fuller than the top and the same freckles lining the space below my eyes. My hair was longer than I remembered, fringe coming down to my lips and the rest reaching past my hips instead of being halfway down my back. Pushing the hair away from my face to examine myself better, I also discovered I had _sideburns._ _God damn_ _**sideburns**__. _They stopped halfway down my jawline, and weren't very thick; but still dark enough to be plenty noticeable. I dared a glance down at the rest of my body.

Well, I was certainly a dwarf.

My clothes were _definitely _too big for me. It looked as if I was wearing a giants outfit, with my jeans slipping halfway down my bum as I turned to assess myself better. My legs had become shorter, now slightly disproportionate to the rest of my body; my arms hung limply at my sides, fingers shorter and thicker than what they had been before. I had seemed I had managed to retain the chub on my stomach, along with my wide set hips and self-dubbed 'thunder thighs'. Unfortunately, I noticed, I still had relatively small boobs and a pretty unimpressive rear end. Christ, I was even less attractive than I was before!

My bottom lip quivered as I sucked in a shaky breath, shuffling back towards the bed. What was I supposed to do? I wasn't even the same _person_ anymore. I had only the simplest knowledge of where I had ended up, and the events that would probably unfold throughout what little life I had here. And I was _angry._ Angry at whatever fucked-up force had put me here, angry at myself for not realising sooner, angry at my _god damn idiot friends forgetting their shit_ and getting me into this mess. For the next hour I sat in silence, mourning the life I had, the life I would have continued to _live,_ until a loud crash in the kitchen brought me out of my reprieve.

_Bilbo was awake._

Wiping the tears from my cheeks, I steeled myself; my sense of self-preservation beginning to kick in. I couldn't let anyone see me like this, let alone _Bilbo, _the one person to take sympathy in this god forsaken place. Besides, he was the only character I could remember from _The Hobbit –_ If I was to build a life here, I may as well stick with the one person I actually know. I took a few deep breaths, before brushing my clothes down and heading for the door. If I was stuck here, even for a short while, I had to find somewhere to live. And Bilbo, bless his soul, seemed to be the easiest person to guilt into submission. I cracked my knuckles, slowly striding towards the kitchen.

_Right. Time to get to work._

* * *

**_Hi guys! Just want to say a big thank you to everyone who read the last chapter, an even bigger thank you to those who favourited/followed it, and the biggest thank you to Marina Oakenshield for reviewing! I know it's a kinda cliche thing to say but seriously, everytime I see someone like my story I get suuuuper happy and inspired to write more!  
I think, by the time of the next chapter, I'll have drawn a good reference for Jaeys so if any of you would like to actually see her as I do, I'll post it on my profile when chapter three comes out (technically this is chapter three but w/e)  
I wanted to write a bit more on this chapter but I feel like it would have been too long... I'll just shove it onto the next one, along with everyones favourite wizard and dwarves c:  
thank you so so much for reading, please review if you liked it / have any suggestions!_**


	4. Expect the unexpected

"Bilbo?" I called tentatively, leaning around the doorway to the kitchen to see what he was up to. I had spent the last quarter of an hour deciding on my plan of action for when I finally faced him, how I would get him to take pity on me and offer me a place to stay with him. I had finally decided on the classic 'amnesia' story; that is, I had been traveling and hit my head, waking up on top of Bilbo's house. I could remember where I lived, just not the name of it, and had no idea how to get back. I decided to also throw in the fact I was apparently raised by Men (mostly because I was such a horrible example of a dwarf) and I was sure my more human customs would become apparent soon enough. I quickly went through the facts again in my head as I observed Bilbo preparing what must have been 'second breakfast' ; there were a great deal of eggs on the stove, along with bread, sausages, baked beans and tomatoes, all at varying degrees of being cooked. The fact that they had full English in Middle Earth comforted me slightly. At least I wouldn't have to give up every semblance of my old life, with the area and food being almost the same as what I was used to in England.

I shook the thoughts of home out of my head as I forced my expression into one of worry, shuffling into the kitchen and into Bilbo's line of sight. After my hour-long crying session my eyes were extremely red and puffy, my face had taken on an ugly red colour and my nose was still completely blocked. I decided not to wait long enough to 'freshen up' or allow my face to calm down on its own, hoping that it would add to the scared hobo-dwarf look I was going to con Bilbo into believing. I felt bad about lying to him, I really did, but it was my only option and given the circumstances I didn't really have much other choice. I had even roughed my hair around for good measure in an attempt to make it look like had been tossing and turning all night.

"Bilbo…" I murmured weakly again, shuffling forwards towards the counter in the middle. Bilbo had been prodding at the fried eggs when he noticed me, whipping around wide-eyed and confused.

"Oh my…" He went pale, spatula almost slipping from his hand as he observed my form. Evidently, my hobo-dwarf lady with amnesia look was working like a charm.

_Good_, I thought, _that will make this so much easier.  
_

"D-did you...did you sleep okay?" I asked in the most pathetic voice I could muster, slumping down at the counter in the same spot I occupied last night and resting my face in my hands. Bilbo went about oohing and ahhing for a while, scooping the food onto two separate plates and sliding one in front of me.

"Never mind me!" He fussed, pushing the cutlery into my hands before going to place a kettle onto the stove.

"What about you? I don't mean to be rude, but… you look like death." Bless his soul, being concerned over me already. He looked so worried, completely forgetting about his own breakfast to get me some tea and a glass of water. I struggled to suppress a laugh (my acting skills were horrible, I could never keep a straight face; especially around someone as odd-looking as Bilbo) as he almost tripped over his colossal feet and spilled tea everywhere.

"Well..." I sighed, nibbling on my toast as I fidgeted in my seat. He had now sat down in front of his own breakfast and was leaned across the table to hear me better.

"Since I-I can't really...remember anything, I didn't get much sleep..." I muttered, biting my lip and folding my hands in my lap. He inched forward in his seat, pressing me to continue, but I remained quiet to deliberate over how I would deliver my next line. See, the thing about lying is always the build-up. People are always reluctant to tell the truth, regardless of whether it will affect them negatively or not. Build-up makes lies more believable. If you just go spurting out random bits of information, people are going to both be able to tell that you are lying and write you off as a loony.

"I tried to remember, but… I think I must have hit my head, like, really hard. I don't think…" I trailed off, looking out into the distance outside of the hobbit-hole for effect.

"Don't think what?" The hobbit prompted, and I could tell by him straining further over the countertop that I had him; hook, line and sinker.

"I don't think I know how to get home."

There was a pregnant pause as Bilbo started to process what I had said. There was almost no doubt in my mind that he would offer his house as a place to stay. He was a pushover, through and through, and in my experience they were a hell of a lot easier to _persuade _to my advantage. I knew that this made me kind of an asshole, manipulating someone I didn't know so that they would let me bum off of them, but to be quite honest I'd rather be an asshole than a hobo living in the woods. And that would be my fate if Bilbo didn't agree to me crashing with him.

"Well, I-"

"I'm going to be out on the streets," I sobbed, completely cutting him off and thrusting my head into my hands in despair. "I can't remember where my friends are, or how to get home...Or if I even had any friends in the first place! What if I imagined them? Oh, Bilbo, what am I going to do?" Evidently, my wails of despair were beginning to affect looked like someone had eaten a baby in front of him or something.

"It's, ah, it's all right! T-there, there…" Bilbo was doing an absolute shit job at comforting me, awkwardly patting my back as his face went red and he looked off to the side. I increased the volume of my cries, even trying to force some tears out for good measure.

"I suppose you could…"

"Y-yes?"

"You could stay a while longer with me, if you like. It'll be…nice, to have company for a while." Biting down hard on my lip to suppress my grin, I stared up at him with wide eyes and clasped my hands over my chest.

"Y-you mean it?" I sniffed, making my lower lip wobble for good measure. He smiled gently at me, nodding his head.

"Of course I do. You seem like a lovely woman, I would feel terrible leaving you out in the cold." This man was just too nice for his own good! Here he was, offering some random woman a place to stay at his house for an undetermined extent of time, just because she was_ lost_ and _confused_. In my day and age, nearly no one would dare do that. I'd be labelled as a crazy lady and have doors slammed in my face. I wasn't complaining, mind you; It was a nice change, even if it wasn't what I was used to happening.

"Thank you so much, Bilbo!" Throwing my arms around his shoulders, I pulled him down to my sitting height to give him a grateful hug. He tittered awkwardly, returning the hug with a few more pats on my back, before returning to his side of the counter afterwards to resume his breakfast.

"Seriously though Bilbo, I'd like to help out in any way I can. Helping with the cooking, cleaning…I may not be the best but I mean, all I can do is try right?" He just hummed his agreements back at me, obviously eager to start his first meal of the day.

The silence that followed almost killed me. It wasn't awkward, per se, I was just more used to yelling and joking around at breakfast than eating it with someone in complete silence. Travelling the world for a year with a group of extremely animated extroverts made me used to having loud meals with people. Bilbo, however, seemed quite content to eat like this; all he needed now was a morning paper and he would have perfected the 'Quiet Dad' look. I wanted to ask how old he was – he didn't look more than forty – but I wasn't sure if humans aged differently to Hobbits. Christ, I didn't even know how dwarves aged! What if I was on my deathbed already, at 26? I needed to know more about dwarves, even if I wasn't exactly in the right place to ask about them.

"Soooo…" I started, rocking back on the stool and resting my elbows on the counter. "How much do you know about dwarves?"

"Ehm...Not all that much, I'm afraid to say." He glanced nervously at me, continuing to cut up his breakfast. I hummed as I shoved the rest of my toast into my mouth.

"Could you tell me what you know?" Bilbo's look went from nervous to confused as he looked back up at me; eyebrows knotted together and head tilted to the side. "But you're a dwarf, how could you not-"

"I was raised by Men!" The words fell out of my mouth before I could stop myself, proof of how flawlessly I had recited the lie in my head. I just hoped he would believe it as easily as he believed all my other lies.

"Oh… Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't know..."

"It's okay, really. It's just that I don't know jack shit about my own people, and well...I just want to know what you know, yeah?"

"Yes, that's… that's reasonable, I suppose..." He rubbed the side of his face, muttering a where to start before beginning to recite the albeit small list of things he knew about dwarves. And that was how the rest of the morning was spent, and as I learned the basics of my people over a bacon and eggs I couldn't help but think _why did I have to be a god damn dwarf?_

* * *

I had greatly under-estimated the length of time I would stay at Bilbo's house. Days turned to weeks; weeks turned to months, and before I knew it I had more or less officially 'moved in' with the sociable Hobbit. He introduced me to others around Hobbiton, and soon I began to take up odd jobs around the village in an effort to at least provide something for myself. Bilbo himself didn't work, having been left a generous sum of money by his late parents ( I was informed one day that he was potentially the richest Hobbit in the Shire), so he spent most of his days chatting to me as I carried out the housework or showing me how to tend to his massive garden.

We quickly fell into a comfortable routine. I would be awake at eight, give myself breakfast, and tidy around the house; Bilbo would then wake up around eleven and we would have elevenses together before I left to complete my 'paid' work around the Shire. It was mostly manual labour, like cutting up wood or guiding the donkeys and carts around to transport produce, so by the time I returned at around seven I was absolutely worn out. Bilbo would make tea, we would talk about our days and then after some light reading we would make supper and then head to bed. My life, it seemed, had turned down an uneventful route, and after my eighth week in Bilbo's home I eventually decided that I had been lucky enough to stumble into Middle Earth after the events of The Hobbit.

At least, that's what I thought. Until the fucking _wizard _appeared.

* * *

It was a perfectly normal Saturday afternoon. I had given myself the weekend off, instead deciding to lounge around the house and read book out of Bilbo's extensive collection. Bilbo himself had opted to sit outside and smoke his pipe (After I commented on how I disliked the fumes, he took to sitting outside to smoke far more often), and I thought it might be nice to bring some cider outside so we could sit and talk for a while. I had two glasses and some biscuits on a tray, contemplating on the fact that I had pretty much become a housewife when I heard a deep voice that definitely did not belong to any one around here, hobbit or otherwise.

"To think that I should have lived to be _Good Morning'd_ by Belladonna Took's son. As if I was selling buttons at the door!" The door frame shook with the intensity of his words, and I quickly set down the tray I was carrying to peek out of the crack in the door. At the gate was a man dressed in all grey, twice Bilbo's size with a beard to rival that of Dumbledore's. He was positively ancient (the word old wouldn't be doing him justice) and to be honest he looked like some character out of a shitty RPG. I crouched down, hoping to get a better angle to watch the situation more clearly.

Bilbo had his back to me, pipe tightly gripped in one hand and post in the other as he replied to the stranger, "Beg your pardon?"

"You've changed," He sighed, adjusting his grip on the gnarled staff he was carrying and shifting his position. "And not entirely for the better, Bilbo Baggins."

"I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"Well you know my name, although you don't remember I belong to it. I'm Gandalf!" He announced, rather proudly I may add, and at the mention of that name my breath caught in my throat.

"And Gandalf means…Me."

Well that's just fan-fucking-tastic, isn't it.

My crouched position quickly collapsed after that, balance wobbling resulting in me landing ass-first on the floor. Just when I thought things could be normal, mister you-shall-not-pass shows up and decides to fuck it up. I had a good life going for me here; most of it was based on Bilbo feeding me, clothing me, just generally showing me how to not make a fuckery of myself. Now Bilbo was going to leave, and I would be left on my own in a massive house with no stable income.

I wasn't going to stand for it. I absolutely _refused _to be left by myself, especially considering most of the hobbits around here were still suspicious of me. If Bilbo was going on adventure, so was I. There was also the fact that the novelty of domestic life was slowly starting to wear off, and...well, there was a reason I had been traveling the globe for the past year. I decided, right then and there, that if was going on this stupid 'adventure'; regardless of whether or not I could remember how it ended.

I quickly pushed myself off of the floor and picked up the tray as Bilbo hopped up the steps, casting a frantic good day to Gandalf before rushing in and locking the door behind him. I hadn't paid much attention to their conversation, considering I was sat on the floor having an existential crisis, so naturally I was curious as to what the wizard had said to spook him so much.

"Bilbo, are you-"

"SHHHSH!" He cut me off with a hissed whisper, pushing his index finger against my lips. He then darted to the window to the side of the door, looking out before immediately pulling back and hiding around the corner like he'd seen a ghost. I regarded him with raised eyebrows and a small smirk; I had never seen him so skittish before, it really was a sight to behold. We both shared a concerned look as an audible scratching on the door echoed throughout the halls.

"What was that?" I murmured after a few seconds of silence. Bilbo rushed over to the window in the study, and breathed out a sigh of relief as he looked out, posture remaining stiff even as he watched the grey man walk away.

"I'm not entirely sure..." He sighed, slumping down in a chair. I offered him his glass of cider while I shovelled the biscuits into my mouth, waiting for him to spill the deets of his odd encounter.

"He wanted someone, presumably myself, to share in an adventure with him. I told him that we didn't want any adventures here, thank you very much, but all he said in response was that he was going to inform the others and that it would be very good for me. I hardly want to think about what that means..." He proceeded to take a long gulp of the cider, holding the cup tightly to his chest.

"It's probably nothing," I reasoned, knowing full well that was a lie.

"You're right. He's just...just a crazy old wizard, that's all." Bilbo chuckled to himself, shaking his head and standing up from his seat.

"Yep! But hey, I'm gonna take a nap now, yeah? I'll be back out to help with tea, but I'm super tired from all the work this week." This was my polite way of informing him I did not want to be disturbed. He nodded, taking another sip of his cider.

"Of course, of course. I was planning on heading to the markets anyway, get us something for dinner." I was dismissed by a wave of his hand, and sped-walked back to my room. By hook or by crook, I was going to be prepared for whatever this stupid 'adventure' was going to throw at me.

* * *

A day later and I was sitting in the kitchen, eating dinner with Bilbo, having spent the entire day yesterday gathering supplies for my impending adventure. My backpack was packed (along with the things I had arrived here with, I had also managed to shove some underclothes, two tunics, a pair of trousers and my too-big t-shirt in) and now ready for action; I had stashed it under my bed so Bilbo wouldn't think something was amiss. I was mildly excited for the journey ahead - after all, I could only live a 'domestic' life for so long before I got bored - but at the same time, I felt like hiding under my bed and never coming out. I think the full reality of the situation that I actually _was_ in middle earth and there was no way back out finally settled in when Gandalf arrived on our doorstep. Dragons were real, as was magic. And dragon fire was a _very likely_ cause of death at the end of this trip.

I was pulled out of my daydreams by Bilbo reaching across the table to grab a pinch of salt, sprinkling it on his fish along with some lemon. I didn't enjoy fish all that much, instead opting for a thick cut of gammon that had been absolutely drowned in honey. I was halfway through cutting off my second chunk when I heard a dull thud against the front door. I glanced up to Bilbo in question, were you expecting someone?

The sour look on his face either meant he had swallowed the lemon whole, or _no_, he hadn't been expecting anyone.

I sighed, stabbing the slab of gammon with my fork and bringing it up to my face to bite a large chunk off before I rose along with Bilbo to see who was at the front door. I contemplated bringing my plate along with me - the gammon was sooo good, especially with the amount of honey I put on it - but the disapproving stare he shot me made me glumly abandon it as we walked over to the entryway. I stood behind Bilbo as he opened the door, still chewing and trying to get bits of stringy meat out from my teeth.

Stood in the doorway with his backs to us was a man. Not a man, rather, I assumed he was a dwarf if his shoulder span was anything to go by. He was mostly hidden behind a large cloak, the only thing not enveloped in blackness was the top of his head. Broadly set, heavily tattooed and even his scalp was littered with battle scars. Bilbo made a weird noise (now that I think of it, he may have nearly shat his pants) and straightened himself out, triggering the man to turn around.

"Dwalin." He announced, a heavy Scottish accent lacing his words. Bowing, he briefly glanced at Bilbo before settling his eyes on me.

"At your service."

Bilbo made an odd noise, but quickly began to fumble with the tie of his nightgown; tying it about his waist before introducing himself in turn. I just narrowed my eyes at him and locked my hips into my usual 'sass' pose. This…Dwalin fellow hadn't broken eye contact with me the entire time he stood in the doorway, almost completely ignoring the hobbit as he pushed his way inside. _Rude motherfucker._

"And you, lass?" He asked, sizing me up as he barged into the entranceway. I gave him a weak glare and rolled my sleeves up, folding my arms over my chest in an attempt to look as intimidating as he did. Who did he think he was, barging in unannounced? I mean, I _had _done the same thing not so long ago but at least I had the decency to be polite about it. Poor Bilbo looked completely lost, stumbling backwards as this dwarvish intruder crossed his threshold.

"Jaeys." I replied bluntly, pursing my lips as he surveyed the house with a disdainful gaze.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" _Christ_. For your sake, Bilbo, I hope you don't.

Dwalin gave him a sour look, glaring down at him with narrowed eyes and a grimacing jaw.

"No." He replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world and Bilbo was stupid for asking. I stuck my tongue out at the back of his head as he looked around the entranceway, sending a long stare down the hallway and into the kitchen.

"Douchebag…" I muttered under my breath, watching in delight as the tips of Bilbo's ears reddened and he let out a little squeak of laughter. Suddenly I was very grateful that he had asked me to teach him slang from my home; we could now have inside jokes and quiet conversations where no one had any idea what we were going on about. Thankfully, Dwalin hadn't noticed my insult and instead of looking at Bilbo, he spoke directly to me as he asked his next question.

"Well, where is it lassie? Is it down here?"

"Uh, where's what?" Bilbo butted in before I could respond, having drawn himself up to his full height in an effort to appear intimidating. I say 'effort' because it really, really wasn't working. Poor man couldn't intimidate a mouse.

"Supper! He said there'd be food, an' lots of it."

I assumed 'He' was Gandalf the Grey, greatest troll of our time. I was going to have a word with him when he finally arrived about _manners _and _common decency_. You can't just invite people to a house that you don't own! Who does he think he is, the Queen of England?

"H-he said…? Who said?" Bilbo murmured, more to himself than anyone else, and I followed Dwalin down the hall to make sure he wouldn't steal our food.

Turns out I was too late. He had made himself comfortable at Bilbo's plate (probably because he hadn't even taken one bite and my gammon had obvious teeth marks in it) and was quite happily eating it. Bilbo, on the other hand, was quietly fuming behind me.

"Jaeys?" Bilbo whispered, grabbing my arm and spinning me around to face him.

"A word?!" I glanced back into the kitchen, decided it was worth it and quickly ran back to grab my plate. I then joined Bilbo in the foyer, where he was pacing back-and-forth in front of the fireplace.

"Do you know him?" Biblo hissed to me, neatly folding up the cape that had been dumped in his arms and setting it on the arm of his chair. I shook my head. "Why would I know him? It's not _my_ house that he's barging into."

"Well, yes, but he's a dwarf! I assumed that he might be one of your friends, or-"

"Christ, Bilbo!" I exclaimed, casting frantic glances towards Dwalin. "What type of friends do you think I have?!"

He made frantic gestures towards the dwarf currently devouring Bilbo's own dinner. I just rolled my eyes, sitting myself down in the armchair and stabbing my meat again. Bilbo huffed, giving me a glare before scurrying back to the kitchen in what I assumed would be an attempt to recover his food.

Apparently, I was wrong in my assumptions. I walked back in to discard of my plate in the sink just in time to watch the dwarvern intruder bite through the head of Bilbo's fish. It let out a horrid squeak as his teeth sunk into the eye and I almost threw up right then and there. If that was what was expected of dwarves, well, count me the fuck out. I aint eating no heads of fish, and…oh god, half of the food was stuck in his beard!

"Very good this," He boomed through a mouthful, bringing Bilbo out of his reprieve and making me jump.

"Any more?" I hoped to god he wouldn't offer him anymore, although I knew that hope was useless. After all, he had housed me for the past eight weeks. He was too generous for his own good. To be fair though, I think he was only being as hospitable as he was because quite frankly this dwarf looked like he could crush our skulls, one in each hand.

"What? Oh uh, yes – yes of course!" Bilbo took the bowl of scones off of the windowsill (where they had been cooling after I baked them this afternoon) and after taking two out of the pile he gave the bowl over to Dwalin.

"Help yourself…"

I wasn't going to miss out on getting to eat my own scones, obviously, so I clapped my hands and held them out so I could be thrown one. Surprisingly, instead of Bilbo throwing me one of the two he had taken, Dwalin looked up and threw one in my direction. I shrugged, giving him a weak smile and biting into it as Bilbo stood to the side. Maybe he wasn't as bad as I first thought. _Maybe._

"Hmm…It's just that, um, we weren't expecting company." He admitted, hopping up and down on the balls of his feet. Dwalin was still pretty much ignoring him, attempting to shovel as many scones into his mouth at once when there was a knock at the door.

"That'll be the door." Talking with your mouth full. That's attractive.

Bilbo grumbled, but went to the door none the less. I was now left with the scary bald dwarf man, who was apparently still hungry after eating a full tea and about six scones.

"Your husband seems…gentle." Dwalin scoffed, raising an eyebrow as he rose and walked past me, back into the foyer.

"Wh-what?" I spluttered, choking on the last piece of my scone. Bilbo? My husband? He was a nice friend, but…he was also kind of a wet dishcloth, if you get my drift. And he got frightened of small bugs. Not really what I'd call husband material, honestly. I couldn't see how we were giving off the 'married couple' vibe.

"He's not my husband," I snorted, trailing behind him as Bilbo greeted the second visitor at the door. "Think more along the lines of landlord." He shrugged and made a beeline for the mantel piece, pulling the jar of sugar snaps off of the ledge and fiddling around with the lid.

"Oi, passus it. They're not for you…" I grumbled, extending my hand to take the jar off of him. If I'm honest, I didn't think his gigantic meat hook hands could fit inside, much less be able to pull a biscuit out. It also gave me an excuse to steal a few, considering Bilbo never let me have any (apparently they were his 'special biscuits') and how he watched me like a hawk any time I even went near them. I heard footsteps behind me, so I quickly pulled a few biscuits out and stuffed them into my mouth before turning to face the new visitor.

"Oh ho!" He exclaimed, taking slow steps towards us. "Evening, brother." The two dwarves grinned at each other, exchanging what I assumed to be a greeting (well, they head butted and seemed pretty happy about it afterwards) before Dwalin led the elder one further into the house. I dared cast a glance towards Bilbo; he looked utterly desperate, poor guy, trying in vain to get their attention.

I trailed behind him as he followed them towards the pantry, fiddling with my braids as Bilbo 'spoke his mind'. I felt like I should help, but these guys obviously didn't care and were completely ignoring everything he said. Giving him what I hoped to be an encouraging pat on the shoulder, I promptly turned and made my way back to the kitchen. My mouth was utterly clogged with biscuit, I needed a drink of water. Bilbo was still talking to the dwarves when I brought the cool jug up to my lips, the sound of the doorbell startling me so much I nearly spat it all back out.

"I'll get it!" I called back to Bilbo, taking a deep gulp of water before wiping my mouth off and striding towards the front door. How many of them were there? I might as well just keep the front door wide open, they seem to make themselves at home regardless of whether they were invited in or not. I knew I was hypocritical for thinking that, but I couldn't bring myself to care all that much. If they were going to come in here and take what wasn't theirs, well, I had a right to call them out on it!

Two deep voices outside the front door broke me out of my mental rant, and wrapping my hand around the knob I prepared myself to welcome them in.

"Great," I muttered, gripping the latch and giving it a tug. "More ugly dwarves."

Boy, was I wrong.

* * *

_**Hi again! This update is a little later than I had hoped for it to go up but I've just really not known what to write. good thing is that we're moving onto the dwarves more and more, meaning I will know what to write (partly because of the movie backing me up and partly because i frickin love writing the dwarves). thank you to all those that favourited and followed, special thanks to Marina Oakenshield for reviewing again and to AnOccasionlyWriter for the suggestion! You guys rock my socks off for reals  
****As promised, you can see the ref i've made of Jaeys on my profile, its linked there! please tell me what you think / if she meets your expectations lol. currently in the process of drawin her tattoos... idk how that will go. until next time! c:**_


	5. Dinner for fifteen

Living in the Shire for eight weeks, I realised, could really lower your standards. Most of the men here were either _extremely _old, middle aged, or barely into their twenties. I had seen about two other people my age (what my physical age looked like, at least - through Bilbo I learned that dwarves live a lot longer than Men, so I was about seventy-ish years old) and they were… lets just say they weren't getting on the cover of vogue any time soon. My trips into Bree weren't much different, unfortunately, and I had yet to see a single man I found attractive until these two arrived on the doorstep.

They stood side by side, both clutching their weapons and surveying me with curious eyes. The one on the right - the taller, darker one - tilted his head to the side as he took in my rather dishevelled appearance. To be honest, he looked terrifying; not Dwalin terrifying, but I'll-cut-you-bitch sort of terrifying. He had no _proper _beard, only weak stubble, and rather unkempt hair - much unlike the man stood next to him.

The one on the left was - christ, I don't know how to describe him. Handsome? Godly? Even those words didn't seem to do him justice. That seems rather an exaggeration, I know - but when you've been living around old, unattractive men for the two months, even slightly handsome guys become Adonis. His strong jawline was covered in coarse, almost brown beard, with a prominent dimple in his left cheek becoming prominent as he smiled at me. He was also the only dwarf I had seen so far with braids; four in his golden hair, tied off by silver beads, and two in his moustache. I fiddled with my own leather-tied braids as I stood dumbstruck in the doorway, not able to draw my gaze away from the bright teal eyes of the blonde.

They did have some oddities about them that labelled them as dwarves - height aside, the darker one had rather large ears and the golden one had a bit of a larger nose - but out of the other two dwarves that had previously arrived, these two looked the most normal. I tried my best to greet them, but the only sound that came out was an odd sounding 'err' noise that I _don't _think endeared them to me at all. Their expressions were stark opposites of each other; the taller was regarding me with suspiciously narrowed eyes, while the braided one was flat out grinning at my startled expression. I, on the other hand, probably looked like a fish with my mouth opening and closing like an idiot.

"Fili." Moustachio introduced himself, tipping his head in greeting.  
"And Kili." The other echoed.  
"At your service!" They bowed in unison  
"You must be Missus Boggins!" Kili (I think) greeted, his expression quickly changing from suspicious to excited. I stumbled backwards in surprise of this sudden change, gripping onto the door frame for support.  
"I-I-, err-" What can I say? There were two attractive guys stood in front of me, both grinning as if I was the first woman they had seen in months. That, or they were freaked out by my sideburns. Either way, they were cute - and cute guys make me freeze up. I don't know what to do with myself around them. They were still just staring at me, Fili's eyes twinkling in the moonlight as I stuttered and made a fool of myself.

"Nope!" Bilbo exclaimed, appearing behind me in the next second and attempting to push the door closed on these new arrivals. "You can't come in, you've come to the wrong house."  
"B-Bilbo!" I chastised, but it fell on deaf ears.  
"What?" Kili asked, shoving his foot quite harshly in the door and forcing it open again. Not that it would have been hard, Bilbo wasn't exactly _strong_ and he weighed about as much as a bag of flour. Not to mention he was barely over four feet tall; myself and the new visitors were at least three inches taller than him.  
"Has it been cancelled?"

"No one told us." Fili echoed the tone of his brother (they must have been related somehow, with names like that, and didn't look old enough to be father and son) and I let out a quiet sigh. His accent was the most familiar one I had heard around here; not entirely similar to my own, but still one I could wholly understand. It had been odd, for me, to live in the Shire and around west-country accents for so long - even though the scenery of the Shire was vaguely reminiscent of the valleys and hills of the Yorkshire Dales, the accents were so, _so_ much different. I struggled to make myself understood sometimes, not just because of the colloquialisms I used but because of my pronunciations (or lack thereof).

"C-cancelled?" I squeaked - quite pathetically, I might add - and stepped backwards into the foyer. Something told me that these two would barge in too and I didn't really want to get knocked over by the door when they did.  
"No, nothings been cancelled!" Bilbo was irritated, possibly the most irritated I had ever seen him. I can't say I blame him, really, although I do believe it was a bit of a wasted effort. If he just had the balls to put his foot down we wouldn't be in this mess - that is, overrun by dwarves. I would speak out against them, considering they were currently _invading _my house, but they were really the only real dwarves I had seen in my _life_ and I was quite enjoying the company - weird, I know. It was...comforting, seeing others like me. I had felt like the odd-one-out in the Shire, for obvious reasons, and even though these dwarves were _extremely _rude, they were my people. Plus, they made Bilbo flustered and didn't seem to have any nefarious intent with their home invasion - if they assumed it was my house, a _Dwarfs _house, it would make perfect sense that they would just barge in and make themselves welcome.

"Well that's a relief!" A stupid grin stretched across his face as Kili pushed the door open, making poor Bilbo stumble back as he did so. He strode past me into the foyer, looking around with wide and gleeful eyes as he unloaded both his bow and quiver onto Bilbo's shoulder.

Fili, on the other hand, just cocked an eyebrow at me and swaggered past a startled Bilbo as if he owned the place. He glanced around too, before nodding towards me and hanging his cloak by the doorway. He then followed his brother through the hallway, coincidentally towards the pantry and dining room where we had left our earlier guests.  
"E-excuse me!" Bilbo called after them, frantically locking the door and hurrying behind them. I just sniggered (which didn't go unnoticed - Bilbo shot me a glare before his disappeared around the corner) and deemed my best option was to follow them and hope that nothing bad would happen.

"Careful with these," Fili announced, dropping what appeared to be a dual scabbard into Bilbo's open arms as I rounded the corner. "I jus' had em' sharpened." Meanwhile, the darker of the pair was examining the _freshly cleaned_ house, spinning in circles to take it all in. I could hear thuds coming from the dining room nearby, presumably Dwalin and the white-haired dwarf, but I couldn't be bothered dragging myself from the current situation to stop them.

"It's nice, this place." Kili smiled at me, presuming I owned the house. I just stared, wide eyed; flicking my gaze from him to the golden haired man currently pulling dagger after dagger out of his clothes.  
"Y'do it yourself?"

"It's-"

"No, its been in the family for years- that's my mothers glory box, could you _please not_ do that!" Bilbo cut me off, _again_, and I turned to see him looking rather perturbed by the amount of weaponry that was being dropped into his arms. He was getting more and more frazzled as time went on, bless him, but I didn't know what to do to help him. Kili just ignored him and continued to clean his shoes on said 'glory box'.

"Fili! Kili! C'mon, give us a hand." Dwalin appeared out of the dining room, slinging an arm around Kili's shoulders as he pulled him in with the older dwarf.

"Mister Dwalin." Kili greeted, looking quite awestruck as he was dragged into the dining room, Fili following close behind.

"Let's shove this out into the hall otherwise we'll never get everyone in." I turned to see what they were doing as Bilbo began his mini-meltdown.

"Everyone!?" He squeaked. "How many more are there?" Bilbo jumped as the doorbell rang again, grumbling a quiet "oh no" as he strode back towards the entrance way. I was too occupied with the four dwarves in the dining room - who were in severe danger of tipping all of Bilbo's fine china off of the cabinet they were trying to pull into the hall - to pay attention to Bilbo's ranting.

"H-here," I offered, coming up next to the white haired dwarf. "Passus, let me help."

"Ow' did a lass like you end up married to a man like 'im?" Kili asked as we moved the cabinet out into the hall. My head snapped up as Bilbo began to yell, but after I concluded he wasn't yelling at any of us I returned my attention to the dwarves closest to me.  
"I didn't." I murmured, shuffling backwards as we brought the cabinet out into the hall. He looked rather perplexed by my answer, as did his brother behind him, but neither questioned it further. I supposed platonic relationships between men and women didn't exist at all here - god forbid that two people who aren't related live together. The shame! The blasphemy! Obviously, I was rather irritated by that fact.

"We'll need more chairs…" The eldest mused as I watched from the archway as they pulled the chairs off of the table and set them down. Just how many people were coming…?

A loud thud and a chorus of yells by the front door drew my attention, and I quickly excused myself to locate the source of the noise. The scene I came across after I ran and skidded through the foyer almost made me do a double-take. At least eight dwarves were piled on top of each other in the entryway, all trying to push one another off of themselves. The wizard was hunched behind this dwarf-mound, giving Bilbo a shit eating grin as he rested on his staff. Bilbo himself was stood holding the door open, but he had his back to me so I couldn't read his expression.

"Bilbo?" I called, tentatively playing with my braids as I awaited his response. "Everything okay?"

"Just magnificent." He grumbled, indicating that it was everything but. I felt bad for the poor man - four dwarves in his dining room was enough to deal with, but _twelve__?_ That was a bit much.  
"You uh… you need help?" Christ, if looks could kill Bilbo would have murdered me five times over.  
"No thank you dear, I believe we will manage." Gandalf replied for him. Bilbo heaved an exasperated sigh and I sniggered at him; He was still clad in his dressing gown and pajamas even though there was an excess of twelve dwarves currently invading his house.  
"You might want to change out of your nightwear, Bilbo."

"Er, right. Yes. Excuse me for a moment." He turned from the dwarves at the doorway, gave a stiff nod to Gandalf and began to rush towards his room.  
"Make sure they don't break anything." He pleaded, giving me puppy-dog eyes before rounding the corner and dashing to change into something more presentable. I shook my head at him before going to join the dwarves in the doorway, offering the lightest-looking one my hand. Most of these dwarves, I noticed, were all considerably fatter than the ones currently rearranging furniture in the dining room. Especially the ginger one on top; he was wider than he was tall, looking almost circular as he attempted to roll off of his companions. I instead decided to pull up the one with the funny looking hat - he wasn't smallest but he seemed to be the thinnest.

"Ah, thanks lass!" He smiled, dipping into a quick bow and sweeping his hat off of his head. I gave him my own grin in response, mostly laughing to myself at his heavy and pronounced Irish accent, and begun to direct the recovering dwarves first to the coat rack, then to the dining room.

Gandalf came in last, resting his staff on the side of the door and ducking into the entranceway.  
"Oh, my dear, I don't believe we've been properly introduced." He greeted, smiling down at me with kind eyes. I had a vague recollection of his importance within this journey, considering that the final movie premiered not that long before I was transported to Middle Earth. I obviously recognised him the most from the Lord of the Rings movies; those had been out so much longer and had a vast array of youtube videos based off of them. Not as if I understood them much - all I knew was that there was a guy who was pretty much captain obvious and there was a remix of him 'taking the Hobbits to isengard', wherever _that_ was. Also that Gandalf said things like 'you shall not pass', not that I had any idea what that was in reference to, either.

"I'm Gandalf."  
"Jaeys," I replied, guiding him down the halls and towards the dining room. "Nice to properly meet you."

It seemed the dwarves had already begun to make themselves at home, looking through the food in the pantry and rearranging the furniture in the dining room to accommodate their remarkably large group.

"S'cuse me," Another dwarf approached me; Bilbo's height, skinny compared to the rest of them and kinda...feeble looking. He looked sweet, totally giving off the 'cute little brother' vibe despite his beard and moustache. And he had knitted fingerless gloves! How cute.  
"Where are your plates?"

"Oh, err...kitchen, fourth cabinet from the door." He bowed and then scurried off, leaving me wondering what Bilbo would think when he came back through to see an array of dwarves rearranging his dining room. Probably nothing good, knowing him; Bilbo was a very sociable hobbit, I had found, but didn't take too kindly to uninvited guests and surprise plans. And if there was one thing he disliked most (I say dislike because that poor man didn't have a hateful bone in his body) was people rooting around his home. I had found _that _out when the Sackville-Baggins had come to visit. Not a pleasant first meeting, I must say.

"I never caught you name," The golden dwarf from before, Fili, appeared in front of me; smiling kindly as he gazed down into my eyes.

"J-Jaeys! I'm- I'm Jaeys." I spluttered, face going pink and palms turning clammy. He chuckled, gave me a clap on the shoulder before wrapping an arm around my shoulder and pulling me towards the pantry. He was so _warm - _and surprisingly comfortable, considering the amount of plate and leather he had on. The fur on his sleeves tickled the back of my neck, his beads swinging almost hypnotically with each step he took - distracting me so much that I almost tripped over his massive boots twice on my way to the pantry.

"Well, _Jaeys," _He grinned, guiding me into the room full of food. "Would you mind helping us set the table?"

"Err… no?"

"Excellent!" He cheered, and that seemed to be an invitation for the rest of the dwarves to pile into the pantry. I quickly realised that they intended to take our food and - if they all had the same appetite as Dwalin - I would have to move fast to grab my own meal (I know I just had supper but, well… I was a dwarf! We eat a lot, apparently). Spying some ham, my favourite cheese and the freshest bread rolls I pulled them off of the shelves – setting some on the table but taking the vast majority of them for myself. I entered the kitchen to grab a knife just as Bilbo appeared in the hall behind me.

Well. It was obvious that he was _not _happy with the dwarves literally raiding his pantry; I think that one even tried to take his prize winning tomatoes to the table! Poor bloke, he didn't even get to eat his supper and now a bunch of dwarves have invaded his house and literally taken _all_ the food. Well… maybe not all of it – I had four perfectly good sandwiches here – but I was reluctant to share them. I glanced through to the dining room to find them all sitting themselves down, catching the eye of Kili as I did so. He made hurried beckoning motions with his hand, and with a nervous laugh I walked through to stand behind one of the grey-haired dwarves. Bilbo was off to the end, standing behind the funny-hat dwarf, looking rather exhausted with the whole situation.

"Bilbo!" I called out to him, and his head turned towards me so fast I was worried it would snap off.  
"Want one?" He huffed, but nodded, and I lobbed one of the roles at him before looking around at what was on the table. They had literally _emptied_ the pantry, food piled so high on the table you'd have to be a mountaineer to climb it. It was messy, too; I was almost up to my ankles in discarded and half eaten bits of food that had dropped onto the floor in the short amount of time they had been eating. I grabbed a few more morsels off of the table - some more cheese and come cracker biscuit type things, along with a chicken drumstick - before retreating from the immediate vicinity and leaning up against the kitchen doorway.

I was quietly eating my sandwiches, observing the rowdy scene unfold before me, when Fili hopped onto the table and started offering people _our_ ale. The cheek of it!

"Oi!" My call got his attention well enough. I reached out towards him, making grabby motions with my hands in an indication that I wanted one of the flagons he was holding. Another fun fact about Bilbo - while he _did _have copious amounts of alcohol, he literally _never_ brought any of it out. Maybe a glass of wine or too every weekend, but that was the end of it. With the dwarves here, the alcohol was pretty much flowing non-stop; and I wanted a piece of the action before I would have to give it up again.

"Give me one." With a cheeky smile he thrust the pint into my hand, climbing back over the food and sliding into a seat at the far end of the table. There was a great cheer, and a countdown, and both Bilbo and I regarded the dwarves with disgust as they downed their alcohol - most of it missing their mouths completely and trickling into their beards instead. I audibly gagged, giving Bilbo a look that obviously read 'what the fuck are they doing' as he scowled towards them. He turned, going to view the carnage that was his empty pantry, and I just frowned at his back as I watched the dwarves chug their ale.

"That's fuckin disgusting." I mumbled into my cup, taking a long gulp of the liquid before returning to the kitchen to get a refill. It was a welcome change to eat in the presence of someone other than Bilbo, for once, but right now the amount of new people in the house was a little overwhelming for me. Especially when I was trying my hardest to not make an utter fool of myself in front of a cute guy.

_You'll have to woman up and get used to it, _I reminded myself.  
_You're going to be spending day after day with these guys, better make a fool of yourself now and get over it. _

"You're taking this remarkably well." Bilbo grumbled, joining me in the kitchen as I turned the stopper on the ale. I shrugged, casting an apologetic glance towards him and shoving the rest of one of my sandwiches in my mouth.  
"The way I see it," I began, chewing thoughtfully as I watched my tankard fill up. "There's what, twelve of them? And two of us. I don't think it would work too well if we tried to stop them, considering they're all considerably both larger and stronger than you and I. Just deal with them for now, Bilbo, I'm sure they'll be gone soon enough."  
"I suppose you're right…" He eventually admitted, huffing and leaning against the doorframe. With my cup now full, I decided to woman up and re-admit myself to the 'party', as it were. I gave Bilbo a comforting pat on the back before journeying into the dining room.

The dwarves, as it happens, had chosen that exact moment to start a more violent food fight than the one they were having before. And _apparently_, the aim of the one with the starfish-hair was utter shite. As soon as I stepped back through that doorway, I was greeted with an egg (a _hardboiled _egg, mind you) to the face. There was a noise of 'oop' before the room quickly went silent.

Now, I don't think of myself as a violent person. I'm actually kind of a weakling; someone challenges me to a fight and I'll just cry and run away. I can't even punch that hard, so god only knows how well I'd fare in an actual fist fight. However, even though I'm not violent, I would say that I am _explosively_ angry. I act before I think - which usually means I say some pretty nasty things to people who probably don't deserve it. But this time, after trying to be polite and altogether _not_ an angry asshole for the past eight weeks, I just lost it.

"Fucking _christ, _you dickbag! That hurt like a motherfucker, what the hell are you doing? Does it _look_ like I'm volunteering for fucking target practice?!" They stared at me for a moment, so wide-eyed and shocked that I could literally feel the embarrassment consuming me. Christ, that egg had fucking _hurt._

"Uhhhh…" I didn't know how to respond. Could I say sorry for something like that? I don't know what constitutes as swears here but I'm sure they understood my meaning one hundred percent. Christ, what must they think of me? I was more worried that one of them would attack me for my outburst than what they would say in retaliation. God, I'm an idiot. A vulgar, loudmouth _asshole _idiot.

While I was mentally berating myself after my little outburst, Kili spoke up.  
"She's a dwarf, alright!" He cheered, and a great round of laughter exploded from the dwarves; so loud that I could almost feel it rocking the foundations of the house. They were all grinning and smiling now, joking and yelling as if I hadn't just screamed at the top of my lungs towards them. I could almost die of embarrassment! Stuttering a quick apology, I rushed back to my bedroom to assess the damage to my face in the mirror.

The damage wasnt that bad, to be honest - just a swollen little red mark above my right eye. My short fringe covered most of it up, which I was thankful for. Still, it hurt like a motherfucker; I would need a cold compress to bring down the swelling. After waiting in my room for a few minutes to compose myself, I decided to venture back out to my sanctuary in the kitchen - only to find it had been infiltrated by some of the older dwarves. And me, being the idiot I am, was too awkward to simply walk in for a cold rag, instead suffering in silence. I tried to find sanctuary elsewhere; but the younger looking ones had taken the living room, _and_ dining room, _and _hallways. I sighed, and made for the pantry instead; maybe I could clean it up while I was waiting to hide again.

"Are you alright?" A deep, yet soft voice spoke out behind me, and I whipped around to see who it was. Fili stood there, in all his golden-haired glory - holding the sweepingbrush rather awkwardly in his large hands.

"I, uh, I guess..." He nodded, taking a step towards me.  
"But uh...What was that dwarf comment about, if you don't mind me asking?" I inquired, taking the brush off of him and beginning to sweep up the mess on the pantry floor.

"They were concerned with how soft-spoken you were," Fili smiled, leaning up against one of the shelving units as I brushed up spilt seeds and broken crockery. These dwarves were excessively destructive, it seemed, as there was more pottery smashed on the floor than there was on the table. _Bilbo won't like this..._  
"The majority of dwarven women we've met are, most usually, utter battle axes - as I'm sure you'll probably know. It was...unnerving, how placid you were with our intrusion." He chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. I shrugged and continued to sweep.

"I didn't want to seem rude to my guests. Besides, if I was that loud all the time I'm sure poor Bilbo would have keeled over and died of a heart attack by now." He let out a snort from behind me, readjusting his gauntlets and stretching his arms above his head.  
"I believe that well enough…" He muttered, casting a glance to the dining room where the hobbit in question was busy fussing over his doilies.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" I narrowed my eyes at him, not appreciating his tone. Bilbo may be a bit of a pansy, for lack of a better word, but that didn't mean people got to mock him because of it. Alright, maybe I was allowed to mock him - but that's only because we were friends and I never meant it with any ill intent. These dwarves, though… I don't think they knew what to make of him.  
"Nothing! Nothing…" He offered, throwing his hands up defensively. Humming in annoyance at his answer, I went back to my sweeping with him standing awkwardly behind me.  
"This is going to take me an age to clean up…" I complained, casting a subtle glance behind me in the hope that he would offer to do it instead. We caught eachothers gaze, and I watched his eyes crinkle cutely at the sides as he broke out into a grin.  
"Don't worry yourself. We'll take care of it." He gave me a gentle smile, so sweet that I almost forgot he insinuated Bilbo was a weakling. _Almost._

"...pillaged, the pantry! I'm not even going to tell you what they've done in the bathroom; they've all but _destroyed _the plumbing! _I don't understand what they're doing in my house!" _Bilbo's voice broke us both out of our staring match - Fili looked rather surprised for a second, before giving me a fleeting grin and walking to the mouth of the pantry to see what was up.  
"S'cuse me," The sweet dwarf from before approached Bilbo with a mix of trepidation and fear, so I too ventured out of the pantry to see what he wanted. I was rather worried Bilbo would yell at him, to be honest.  
"I'm sorry to interrupt, but what should I do with my plate?" He inquired, making Bilbo cast an exasperated glance towards the wizard further down the hall.

"'ere you go Ori, give it to me." Fili offered, taking the plate off of Ori and casually throwing itpast Gandalf and down the hall. At that exact moment, Kili appeared out of the kitchen, somehow managing to catch the speeding plate and redirecting it into the room he just exited. The lack of noise it made reassured me that it hadn't shattered on the wall, but it did nothing to appease Bilbo. The aged wizard that was previously talking to him made a short noise of surprise, quickly getting out of the way of the sudden onslaught of plates being hurled past his head. It seemed there was a never-ending stream of pottery flying through the air; Fili and Kili continued on, ignoring Bilbo's calls of protest.

"Excuse me! That's my mother's west farthing pottery, it's over a hundred years old!" He exclaimed, frantically trying to grab the flying plates out of the air or stop the dwarves from throwing them as the crockery sailed past his head.

"And c-could you not do that, you'll blunt them!" Some of the older dwarves in the dining room were beating out a tune with the silverware - I was more worried that they'd make indents in the table than anything else.

"Oooh, ya hear that lads? E' says we'll blunt the knives!" Funny-hat joked, eliciting laughter out of the remaining dwarves at the table.

"Blunt the knives, bend the forks," Kili sang in a rather rehearsed fashion, motioning for his brother to throw more stuff at him.  
"Smash the bottles and burn the corks," Fili continued, bouncing a plate from arm to arm.  
"Chip the glasses and crack the plaaaaaaates-"  
"THAT'S WHAT BILBO BAGGINS HATES!"  
It appears as though I had found myself in the middle of a disney musical. Dwarves all around me were singing to some unknown tune - well, unknown to _me_ at least; they all seemed to know the lyrics well enough. Some of them even pulled out instruments as their companions jumped up on tables and headbutted cups like nobodys buisness. Did… did Dwalin have a _fiddle? _What the heck was happening?

It was all rather confusing - there was too much going on for me to focus on one thing at a time. Bilbo was rushing around like a headless chicken, trying in vain to get them to stop 'ruining his silverware'. I'm not entirely sure he realised that this was their attempt at cleaning up - to be honest, I wouldn't have realised either, considering they were kicking everything around with such gleeful abandon. But axe-head was piling cleaned plates up in the kitchen, the round one was doing what I assumed was his attempt at 'cleaning' - just eating all the leftover food on the plates and wiping the crumbs off. The dwarves were all slowly beginning to converge into the kitchen, so I followed them - having a jug of ale pushed into my hands in the process. I didn't know who did it, but I definitely wasn't complaining; I think I'd need to get drunk to make sense of what was happening.

The tune ended almost abruptly as it started. Every dwarf cried out "That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!" before erupting into fits of gleeful laughter. I quickly realised that my assumptions from before were true - the dwarves _had_ cleaned up, as there was a large pile of clean pots, cups, and plates piled on top of the kitchen table. I smiled, shaking my head at the group as Bilbo pushed in between the starfished-hair dwarf and I - forcing me up against Fili in the process. He grinned down at me through his laughter, gesturing to Bilbo and then to the table as if to say '_I told you we would take care of it'. _I just gave him a stupid smile in response, gulping down my ale.

The hearty laughter was interrupted by three harsh thumps on the door, and everyone in the room, including Bilbo and I, turned to look towards the source of the noise. It got so quiet you could hear a pin drop, and I briefly wondered why everyone had gone silent - out of fear or respect for the newest arrival, I didn't know. Bilbo and I cast a worried glance to one another. Gandalf was the first to speak, with a voice so deep and solemn it shook me to the very core.

"He's here."

* * *

_**This is a little later than I intended - sorry for that!**_

_**My chapters are getting a little longer - this one is 5,300 ish words haha. I was halfway through it at barely 2000 words, thinking ' this is gonna be the shortest chapter since the prologue'. Thankfully that wasnt the case!  
Again, I'd like to thank you all for following, especial thanks to those who review - I'll keep your ideas in mind while writing future chapters, although I know quite a bit of the lore already/ However, there may be a few headcannons in here - such as dwarvish traditions and the like that Tolkien hasn't mentioned in detail.**_

Please check out the drawing I did of Jaeys I have on my profile if you haven't already - I'd really appreciate it and it might help you to visualise her better, considering you probably know what all the other characters look like already.  
Thanks again!


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